


Bad Feather Days

by wyntereyez



Series: Winged Things [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Wings, molting, winged!killian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22242688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntereyez/pseuds/wyntereyez
Summary: Killian goes through his first molt with Emma.  It doesn't go well...
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Series: Winged Things [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560754
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is… Killian’s dreaded molt. This takes place shortly after the wedding. Emma’s never experienced a molt before due to various circumstances, so she’s in for some fun times. Title comes from one of the articles I read that kept referring to molts as being “bad feathers days.”

Part One

There was a bite to the air, the kind of chill that went straight to the bone. The house was large and old; come winter, it would be unbearable if Emma didn’t call someone in to update their furnace. But she’d worry about that later. Right now, she was pressed against her own personal space heater, and huddled under a thick feather blanket that wrapped around her.

Emma shifted, extending her leg to free her foot to test the room temperature. She shuddered at the cold air, then pulled it back under and buried her face into Killian’s chest. Her personal space heater grunted and wrapped his arm around her.

“Cold,” she mumbled. “Let’s just stay in bed the rest of the day.”

“Mmm,” Killian agreed. His wing, which he instinctively draped over them at night, tucked itself more tightly around her.

“Dad can cover for us both. He owes me.”

Killian grunted again. He buried his face in her hair. “It’s my first day as your deputy, Love. It wouldn’t look good if I missed it. No matter how tempting your offer is.”

“I’m the sheriff,” she grumbled. “I can just reschedule your training for another day.”

“You make an excellent point, Love.”

Emma’s alarm chose that moment to go off, and Killian growled. It would forever amuse Emma that Captain Hook did, in fact, hate alarm clocks. But mostly because he hated the unnaturally loud and obnoxious sounds they made, which were completely alien to someone from a world of lower level technology. He’d panicked the first night he’d stayed over and heard it, jumping out of bed with his feathers fluffed up in a threat display.

Now he just reacted like any modern person, by growling, swearing, or threatening to smash it with his hook.

Except today…he gave the clock a glower, and buried his head under his wing.

Emma rolled out from under his wing, whining as the chilly air hit her exposed skin, and turned off the alarm. She then flopped back on the bed, yelping when something poked into her side. Killian uncovered his head, suddenly alert. “Swan, what’s wrong?”

Emma frowned as she pulled a dull black feather from where it had been tangled in the bedding. From its length and shape, she recognized it as one of his secondaries. And it wasn’t the only one; she spotted another trapped beneath Killian’s arm, and a third wedged beneath her pillow.

“Killian,” she breathed. “Did..did I…?” She liked touching his wings. She’d even, in the heat of the moment, held on and yanked them, when Killian had assured her she wouldn’t hurt him.

Killian sat up, spreading his wings. A feather was jostled loose from his maimed wing and drifted lazily to the bed.

“Bloody hell,” he sighed.

“What’s happening?” Emma was starting to panic.

“It’s all right, Swan… though I may have to take you up on that offer to reschedule. It seems I’ve begun my annual molt.” He scratched behind his ear, and gave her a sheepish smile. “Normally, I can anticipate it, but my time in the Underworld seems to have thrown off my schedule.”

“So this is normal,” Emma said, shoulders sagging in relief.

“Aye,” Killian nodded. “Once a year, I lose all my old feathers and grow new ones.”. He scratched behind his ear again, and Emma’s eyes narrowed.

“If it’s normal, then what’s got you so nervous?” she asked, nodding towards his hand.

Killian abruptly realized what he was doing and jerked his hand down. “It’s just…I’ve been told I become rather… unbearable during my molt,” he explained.

“Unbearable? How unbearable?”

“Let’s just say, it might be better for our relationship if I spend the next two weeks on the Jolly Roger.”

————-


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies it's taken so long to get back to this! I've had technical difficulties.

Part Two

As Killian trailed behind Emma, only half-listening to her spiel about the duties of a deputy, he mentally cursed himself. He should have recognized the signs: the itchy wings, the dulled feathers, the way his wings listlessly conveyed his emotions…it was painfully obvious he’d been ready to start a molt, but he’d been so busy, he’d ignored his body’s signals.

Between the Black Fairy, his fears about Emma and the Final Battle, the wedding and the honeymoon, he’d completely lost track of time. He’d thought he had at least a month to ease Emma in to what she’d have to deal with.

He huffed a sigh as a particularly annoying itch in the arch of his right wing seemed to increase in intensity. Emma, who’d been giving him a run-down of the paperwork he needed to fill out, immediately stopped and gave him a concerned look. “Are you sure you’re okay? We can put this off until after.”

Killian sighed, as he curled his wing around in front and tugged at the offending feather. It pulled free, offering temporary relief. “Aye, Swan. It’s merely a spot of discomfort.” The real pain would begin when the larger feathers began to pull loose, and the pin feathers began to grow. He had almost a week until he hit that phase of molt. Emma had explained that his first few days on the job would be filling out paperwork and learning the to use the computer system; he could manage that while in early molt.

He stuffed the feather in the plastic bag he’d attached to his belt for that purpose. Emma eyed him worriedly, then went back to her speech.

He had his own desk and computer. Killian still didn’t like the ‘magic boxes’, but he had to admit they were useful. He spun the chair and took a seat on it backwards, his chin resting on the headrest, wings draped behind him. Emma pulled up another chair and helped him set up a username and password. Once in the system, she clicked on the various tiny pictures, the ‘icons’, and showed him what each one did. Absently, Killian pulled his left wing forward and dragged his hook through the feathers, dislodging several more.

\-------

Killian managed a full day at the station, though he and the computer had declared war on each other. He and the infernal device had eventually reached an uneasy truce, after Killian had gone through his full repertoire of sailor’s curses. Emma had looked impressed, and Killian wouldn’t be surprised if he caught her using one or two of them later.

They walked home. When in molt, Killian’s wings were sensitive, and he didn’t want to squeeze them into the tight confines of Emma’s Bug. He couldn’t even wear his false wingtip because of the ache, and Killian felt like everyone was staring at the scarred nub of his left wing.

The plastic bag was nearly full. He’d had to assure Emma that this was normal, but he could see the concern in her eyes whenever she glanced his way.

The coming weeks were going to be hard on her.

“Do you want to stop at Granny’s?” Emma asked as they passed the diner.

“Not like this. It would be very unsanitary of me to shed feathers all over her clean floors.” He gave her a weak smile. “Which is what is going to happen to our house. And our bed. It would be easier on us both if I stayed aboard the Jolly -”

“No,” Emma said firmly.

He’d explained to her, that morning, about how his molt progressed. How losing every feather nearly drove him mad with itching, how the growth of new feathers was a slow, painful process that left him weak and feverish, how it could be life-threatening if one of the pinfeathers broke and bled out.

Emma had paled at that, and he was sorry he’d frightened her. He’d wanted her to understand why he isolated himself, but it had only made her more determined to help.

Emma took his hand, which he’d been about to twist around to pull another feather. “We can do this, Killian. After facing the Black Fairy, this will be easy. Please, let me help you.”

“Ah, Love…if you really want to help, could you, perhaps…scratch the base of my right wing?” he asked plaintively.

Emma’s lips twitched as she tried not to laugh at his petulant tone, then she released his hand and dug her fingers into the impossible-to-reach feathers where his wing met his back.

His pleased moan made her laugh, and he smiled in response. Maybe this would be better with Emma…


	3. Part Three

Part Three

Emma didn’t sleep well that night, though she suspected she’d gotten more sleep than Killian. He’d said he’d try to sleep with his wings draping over the side of the bed, to contain the mess, but Emma would still wake up with a twitching, shuddering wing blanketing her, and shed feathers poking into her.

She’d wake up to see Killian scratching desperately at his other wing, or on his back and wiggling against the mattress in an effort to reach that spot between his wings.

She also caught him shivering from the cold, which was unusual for him.

By morning, there was no hiding that he was losing feathers. Much of the down from the arms of his wings was gone, giving his feathers a patchy look.

Killian studied his ragged wings gloomily. “Soon I’ll look like Granny’s hot wings special,” he sighed. He loosely folded his wings and headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Emma followed after him, taking her place at her sink. “You don’t have to come in today,” she reminded him gently.

Killian grunted, and dug out his eyeliner. He’d started lining his left eye in an effort to cover the dark bags beneath them from lack of sleep. Emma suppressed a chuckle at his vanity. “I’ll be fine, Love,” he assured her. “I’ve spent many a sleepless night at sea. I’m accustomed to working with little rest.”

“I’m having you work on CBL’s today. Best cure for insomnia I’ve ever encountered. If you were to fall asleep during them, I’ll look the other way.”

“Not more of the bloody magic box,” Killian sight dramatically.

“Sorry.” Emma’s lips quirked.

Killian just grumbled, then grabbed the toilet plunger and tried to use it to scratch his back. Emma snatched it from him, and resolved to buy a backscratcher.

————

Killian didn’t fall asleep during his computer courses (which was more than Emma could boast) but he seemed to have lost his will to live by the fifth CBL, which covered a lot of the same ground as the first four, just with slightly different wording.

Killian was slumping in his seat, his wings sagging to the floor. Emma came up to him and tapped the table to get his attention. Killian pushed back the headphones and scowled. “These things are more tedious than a week at sea when the winds have died.”

“And yet, you’re still awake. Want to get some lunch?”

“Aye, Love. But I’d rather not go out. Perhaps we could order in?”

Emma wondered if he was trying to keep his wings out of sight. Her vain pirate was looking a little ragged, and she knew that flustered him. “I need to run a few errands, so I can pick up some food. Any preferences?”

Killian grinned. “I’ve been thinking about Granny’s hot wings all day. Perhaps…a double order?” he added a little uncertainly. “I find I become more carnivorous during molts.”

Protein, she realized. Did he require more protein when he molted? “Got it. See you in a bit.” She leaned down and kissed his temple. “Maybe sleep if you can, okay?” Any calls to the station would be forwarded to her phone.

Killian grunted and pulled his headphones back on.

Emma stopped at the diner to place their order, and while she waited, she ran over to the library, where Belle was checking in a stack of books. At her side was a bassinet, where Gideon was sleeping peacefully. “Am I interrupting?” Emma asked softly.

“You’re fine. Gideon could sleep through a dark curse,” Belle say. “How can I help you?”

“I need to find some books on molting.”

———-

This feels like a filler piece, much like the last part did. It’s driving me nuts…  
Also, CBL’s (computer based learning) are the WORST. If you manage to stay awake during them, you lose your will to live.


	4. Part Four

Part Four

To Emma’s surprise, Killian wasn’t fast asleep when she got back to the station. He was, however, standing in the doorway to her office, his back pressed against the frame. He was wriggling vigorously, head thrown back with his eyes closed, and he groaned in ecstasy as he scratched what Emma presumed was one hell of an itch.

Now was not the time to be turned on, Emma reminded herself firmly.

“Anyone who walks in right now could get the wrong idea,” Emma said, amused.

Killian’s eyes shot open, and about half his feathers puffed up in surprise. Several were knocked loose and drifted to the floor.

“That’s embarrassing,” Killian said, scratching behind his ear.

“C'mon. I come bearing gifts.” Emma nodded towards there desks. Killian followed slowly, his wings shuddering to dislodge more loose feathers.

“Food,” she announced, setting his buffalo wings and an extra order of onion rings on his side, “and this.” She offered him a bag from Dark Star Pharmacy, which he took curiously. The bamboo stick inside made him wrinkle his nose in puzzlement.

“And this is…?” He raised an eyebrow as he studied the little curled hand at the end.

“A backscratcher. For those hard to reach spots.”

Killian’s eyes widened, and he promptly gave it a try. His pleased sigh was all Emma needed to know her gift was a success. “There’s also some antihistamines in there. They might help ease the itching.” A groan was his only response.

She decided to leave him to it for now, and pulled out one of the bird books Belle had scrounged up to read while she ate. Apparently, birds weren’t a popular subject in Storybrooke, and the pickings had been slim.

“Swan, I’m not a parrot,” Killian grumbled when he caught sight of the book.

“I dunno, you have a lot in common with this one.” She angled the book to show him the picture of a mid-molt parrot hissing at a spray bottle.

Killian scowled, then bit savagely into one of his buffalo wings.

Sighing, Emma took one of his shed feathers to use as a bookmark. Killian’s scowl deepened.

She let him demolish his food. To distract herself, she dug out one of the stations Cosmopolitan magazines and thumbed through it.

The Cosmos were something she’d inherited when she’d taken the job as sheriff. She had no idea why the station seemed to have an eternal subscription to the magazine, or why it was in Graham’s name, but they arrived promptly every month, more reliable than her paycheck. Emma had tried to cancel, but there was no record of the subscription existing, or of any renewal fees being paid.

Regina couldn’t figure out, either.

As Killian skeletonized his last buffalo wings (he was DEFINITELY protein-loading,) Emma asked, “Want to take a quiz?”

“That’s what I’ve been doing all morning on the Infernal Machine,” Killian grumbled.

“This quiz is about if you know if you’re pleasing your man,” Emma said teasingly. “Can you please your man, Killian Jones?”

For the first time that day, Killian lost his slightly pinched expression, replacing it with a sultry smile. “Ah, Love, I don’t need a quiz to answer that. I’ve left many a man pleased.”

She thought he was teasing, but he aced the quiz. Emma stared.

“I’ve discovered today I’m very good at tests,” Killian said with a shrug. He tossed his trash, then took up his backscratcher. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Love, I want to finish one more of those bloody nuisance lessons before we head home.”

He winked, then strutted away, an effect that was ruined when he immediately resumed scratching his back.

————

One day, I will write a part that makes me happy…


	5. Part Five

Part Five

When Emma woke the next morning, her husband had transformed into a burrito.

She woke up far, far too early because she was freezing. Accustomed as she was to her husband’s heat and built-in feather blanket, the change in temperature was shocking.

Emma immediately turned to Killian, wondering if he’d gotten up for another good scratch or a dose of antihistamines, but found in his place a large roll of blankets with a tuft of dark hair sticking out the top. A single foot protruded from the other end.

“Killian?” she asked sleepily. “Are you all right?”

The burrito shifted and rolled towards her. Killian poked his face out. “I’m fine, Love.” His voice was gravelly from sleep. “Just a touch chilly.”

“Ah…I thought maybe you were building a cocoon to turn into a butterfly.” She shivered. Well, that settled it; she was calling someone in to update their furnace.

“Bloody hell, Love! I didn’t mean to steal your covers.” He started to fight his way out of the tangled blankets.

“Killian, you don’t have to - oh…” she breathed. Even though the sunlight coming through the window was still weak, she could easily see the changes to his wings. He’d begun dropping primaries, leaving gaping patches of skin.

Killian saw where she was looking and smiled crookedly. “Aye, I look like the Christmas turkey,” he said ruefully.

He attempted to fold his wings, but he’d told her that the pain kept him from furling them tightly, they sagged down his backside. “I don’t think I’m going to make it to the station today,” he sighed.

“I’ll stay home with you -” Emma began. She could at least help him with the loose feathers.

“I’ll be fine, Swan. Truly. It’s Friday night, and someone will have to save the Rabbit Hole from Leroy.”

Emma swore, wondering if she could just preemptively toss Leroy in the drunk tank and come home early.

That was probably an abuse of power.

“Fine, but promise you’ll call me if you need anything, okay?” Emma reached out, intending to touch his face, but he flinched away.

“Sorry; even touch hurts right now.” He shivered again. For the first time, Emma noticed his normally luxurious chest hair looked…thinner. it had always felt so soft to touch. Emma suddenly wondered if there were feathers blended with the hair, and if he was so cold because he was molting everywhere.

Emma helped him back into his burrito. Killian made a contented purring sound as his shabby wings were concealed. She got a good look at the left one as he was folding it under, and she gasped. “Killian, you’re bleeding!” She remembered what he’d said about broken pin feathers, and started to panic.

“It’s all right, Swan.” He extended the wing, giving her a better look. It was covered with long, shallow scratches, which overlapped several similar scars she’d never seen before because they’d been hidden by his feathers. “Scratching with one’s hook is risky. I usually stop wearing it when I begin my molt.”

But he’d chosen to work the past couple of days, and he refused to go without his hook in public. He’d hurt himself because he didn’t want to disappoint her…

Killian saw the change in her expression and said softly, “This isn’t your fault, Swan. I thought I would have better control after all these years. I was wrong.”

He pulled the blanket around his wings and tucked the end under himself. Burrito complete. “Now, come back to bed, Love. You still have a few hours before you need to go in, and we can keep each other warm, aye?”

Emma never had been able to resist that pleading expression.


	6. Part Six

Part Six

Emma checked her phone again, brow furrowing when she saw she’d received another call from Killian. He’d begun calling and immediately hanging up after one ring before she could answer. The fourth time, she’d caught him, and he’d apologized for bothering her, then had rather wistfully asked if she could pick up another backscratcher, because he’d broken his. And where were the extra blankets? And were those little hats she wore comfortable?

Even over the phone, she could hear the strain in his voice, though he’d seemed to perk up the longer he spoke with her.

He’d called five more times since, though she’d only been able to answer twice because she’d been off handling a dispute at Granny’s. He’d asked for more of the antihistamine cream on the first call, and during the second, bandages.

That worried her, even though he’d hastened to assure her it was nothing. Oh, and he’d eaten the entire rotisserie chicken she’d picked up before work, could she grab another?

Worried as she was, Emma couldn’t focus on her job.

Emma tried calling Killian back, but she was unsuccessful, as she had been the last few times she returned his calls. It seemed that Killian slept between these little bursts of activity, and this time was no different.

She growled in frustration and set the phone aside, trying to focus on finishing her paperwork before Leroy began his Friday drinking extravaganza. She didn’t have time to be worrying over how needy her husband had suddenly become.

She heard the sound of the main door opening, and looked up to see her parents come inside, hands full with takeout bags from Granny’s.

Snow made a beeline for Emma’s desk. “We thought we’d join you for a peaceful dinner before you exposed Killian to Storybrooke’s night life,” Snow said, dropping a greasy bag on Emma’s desk. Her stomach growled appreciatively.

She almost tore into the food right then, but stopped herself when David asked, “Where’s Killian?”

Emma sighed. “Home. He’s molting, and we decided it’s better if he stayed in.”

“Oh!” Snow gasped. “I wondered if he did…it must be really painful for him!”

“He won’t let me touch him,” Emma said. “I want to help him through it, but I don’t know how. I don’t think he even knows how, because he had no one to teach him.” Emma pushed the bag of food aside, appetite gone. “All I have are some books on birds, and they’re not the most helpful. I mean, they suggested using a squirt bottle on a molting bird; I don’t think that would work on Killian.”

“You should definitely try it,” David said, grinning.

Emma scowled at him. “Actually, that might not be a bad idea,” Snow mused. “Emma, would you like me to come over and have a look at his wings? I have experience with birds molting, so maybe I could see how they compare, and make some suggestions?”

Emma agreed. “Let me ask him first; he’s really shy about his wings right now.”

“Of course.”

Emma’s phone rang again. She immediately grabbed it before Killian could disconnect. She listened a moment, then tried not to groan. He’d tried to take a shower, and his loose down feathers had clogged the drain.

He did, however, reluctantly agreed to allow Snow (and only Snow) to look at his wings.

After Emma hung up, David said, “Why don’t you and Snow go now? I can fill in for the rest of the night.”

“Are you sure?” Emma tried to hide her relief.

“Yes - on one condition. Buy the squirt bottle,” David said.


End file.
